


House Guest

by Too_Many_Seeds



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, F/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 05:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15526770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Seeds/pseuds/Too_Many_Seeds
Summary: Taking John Seed's ranch has unforeseen consequences, and suddenly the Deputy is stuck babysitting a ball of fluff that is just as needy as its owner.





	House Guest

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This has some dubious elements in it; there is some manipulation that occurs while under the influence of the Bliss, but the drug has worn off by the time anything explicit occurs. If this may trigger you in any way, please do not read this. There is also a small mention of a daddy kink (sorry).

Everything about the ranch felt uncharacteristically...domestic. Rook stood in the kitchen, peering through the wooden cupboards and taking stock of John’s home supply as Resistance members milled around the outside, chatting happily away and blaring their radios while setting up shop. 

She could hear Hurk and Sharky in the next room having a heated debate about one thing or the other, and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as she heard some mention of pickles and aphrodisiacs. Kneeling down by a corner cupboard, Rook decided she  _ didn’t  _ want to know. She opened the door, and frowned as she was met with the sight of containers of what appeared to be...pet food? Rook leaned forward on one knee and pulled out the nearest container, peering through the lid to see the stored food, shaped into little fish-like pellets. 

“Huh,” Rook muttered, before biting a lip and then tucking the container back into the cupboard. She made her way out into the main room, where Sharky and Hurk were sprawled out lazily on the couches in front of the fireplace. 

“I’m just saying, man,” Sharky was saying, a packet of chips in one hand. “These cult dudes - and dudettes, I don’t judge - would all be a helluva lot happier if we slipped ‘em some pickles.” 

Rook cleared her throat, interrupting what she was sure was an extremely intelligent conversation. 

“Guys,” she said, waving her hand slightly. “None of you have seen an animal around here, have you? A pet, I mean. Cat, dog...rabbit?” 

The men glanced at each other and both shrugged. 

“That’s a negative, Dep,” Sharky replied, before tossing another few chips in his mouth carefreely. “Why? You want one?” 

“Oh, my grandaddy used to have these dogs, labradors, I think he said,” Hurk interrupted, “and he said they were the cutest things. He named one Fred and it was the best friend ever. But...oh, Dep, you’ve got Boomer already, what do you need”-

Rook cut them off with a shake of her head and held up her hands.

“No, no, it’s not for me,” she rushed to reassure them. She glanced around the area, and began to notice more things than before; a small stick peeking out from under the couch that looked suspiciously like it was connected to a longer toy and collections of small scratch marks by the back of the couch. “I think...I’m going to have a look around.” 

She slowly made her way through the ranch, peering around every corner and crevice, searching for their mysterious guest. Through her exploration, she discovered a medium sized bed in the floor of the main bedroom - John’s bedroom, she imagined, judging by the large walk-in wardrobe - and a litter box by the laundry. She made her way to one of the entrances, and knelt down to peer around the cupboard, searching for their feline friend. She moved to stand back up, and froze as she realised she was face to face with ...a creature. 

The thing was smooshed right up against the glass bowl, a creature of pure fluff that was so heavy she could barely make out its face. It’s eyes were wide-blown and staring right at her, mouth slightly open, as though surprised at being caught. It was somewhat curled up inside the bowl, but its tail - bushy and impossibly fluffed - spilled out onto the top of the cupboard. 

“Bingo,” she said, barely moving an inch lest she scare the thing while Sharky and Hurk cautiously made their way over to her. 

“Woah, John has a kitty-cat?” Hurk said, kneeling slightly to get a better look at it. “It’s got so much hair! But you know, I didn’t think John even liked animals.”

“I didn’t even know John liked _anything_ ,” Sharky added, and then frowned, casting a quick glance to Rook. “Aside from you, I mean.” 

Rook groaned, unwilling to go into this argument again, and so drew the attention back to the matter at hand. 

“Guys, focus,” she scolded them, clicking her fingers, and then blinking as the creature’s face twitched at the sound and its eyes followed her hand’s movement. “Oh. I think it...liked that.” 

“Yeah, man, cats are like...super cool,” Hurk said. “They’re like, really into chasing things. Anything. But yeah. Probs don’t have pet fish.”

Rook tutted, thinking for a moment. 

“What are we going to do with you, huh?” She murmured, biting her lip. She couldn’t very well take it to a shelter - they had all been dealt with quickly by Jacob. There weren’t any pet shops she could go to for advice, and she wasn’t likely going to ask Miss Mable to look after it. 

Before she had the chance to discuss it with her companions, there was a sudden, static voice ringing out from the radio at her hip.

“So, you’ve managed to take my home in the name of your little Resistance,” the saccharine voice of John Seed was heard in the room. In front of her, Rook saw the cat’s ears perk up and its eyes were flickering around; trying to find the owner of the voice it recognised. She’d be lying if she said that it didn’t make a strange pressure come over her chest. John continued, a rather dangerous edge to his voice. “Oh, if those walls could talk...well”-

“Yes, John, we have your cat,” she interrupted him, unhooking her radio and bringing it closer to her mouth. “Now, what do we do with it?” 

There was a beat of silence, but she knew he hadn’t switched frequencies due to the static sound that could still be heard. 

“Alive?” He finally asked, cautious. 

Sharky made a scoffing sound behind her, and she echoed it before replying.

“Of course it’s  _ alive _ , you moron,” Rook hissed into the radio, batting Hurk’s hands away as he tried to reach out to the cat - they didn’t want to scare it away while they were talking to its owner, lest he take out his wrath on them. “We’re not monsters.  _ Jesus _ .”

“Forgive me for assuming the sinners who butcher my people indiscriminately would have no qualms for extending their  _ mercy  _ unto my household pet,” John replied, voice scathing despite its static quality. 

Rook opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Hurk and Sharky’s indignant shouting. She hushed them with a gesture, but couldn’t hide her wry grin. 

“Though I could talk for hours about why exactly that sentence was so messed up,” she began, and before he could reply, continued, “that’s not what matters here. What do you want done with your cat, John?” 

He was silent, and she could practically feel him seething through the frequency, humbled to be at her mercy like this. For her part, and shock, she wasn’t actually enjoying it; she didn’t really take much pleasure in keeping a pet away from its owner, even if said owner was a particular thorn in her side. 

“Considering you’re not likely to return my  _ home  _ for my cat, what are my options, Deputy?” John asked slowly, drawling out her title in his unique way as per usual. 

She sighed, staring at the fluffball still smooshed up against the glass bowl. 

“Is there an outpost nearby I could drop it off at?” Rook asked, already dreading the thought of dropping and running. “Or I could even drop her near your bunker, if you’d prefer-”

“ _ No _ ,” John interrupted her firmly, with such urgency that she paused. 

Wouldn’t he prefer having the pet close to him? Especially considering that he and his cultist buddies were so adamant that the world was coming to an end; wouldn’t he do everything he could to ensure that his pet was ready for it in the bunker? The only reason she could think of that might stop him from doing so was...Oh. 

“Joseph doesn’t know about the cat, does he?” Rook asked, soft and yet her heart was racing. “Big brother doesn’t approve?”   
“He’s not  _ going  _ to know, either,” John hissed in response, wrath palatable while he confirmed her theory. He cut himself off abruptly with a deep breath, and when he returned to the speaker, he was calm again. “No. She cannot come to me.” 

Rook frowned, wondering how he’d managed to keep the pet’s presence a secret from his own followers, but then she scoffed at the thought of John allowing his guards to come and go in his home with freedom. He was a jealous man, and if he wanted to hide his animal, then he would take any measures he could. 

“Then what do you suggest?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest and chuckling. “That I look after it?” 

His silence was his answer. She stopped laughing and scowled.

“Are you crazy?” She hissed, even while she saw Hurk perk up at the thought. “I can’t look after a bloody cat!”

He tutted, and though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was smiling, knowing he had her on the ropes. 

“Perhaps you should have thought of these consequences before you  _ stole  _ my home,” John replied, a slight hint of anger shining through when he again mentioned her conquering of his ranch. “My dear cat comes with the deal, I’m afraid.”

Hurk was positively gleeful, kneeling down in front of the glass bowl and making soft cooing noises at the creature, while Sharky was peering at it with no lack of curiosity - it was like he’d never seen a cat up close before, and...well, considering his firey habits, perhaps he hadn’t. 

“Oh...fuck’s sake. Fine,” she scowled, and deliberately looked away from the cat so she wouldn’t be suckered in by its cuteness. “What do I need to do with it, then?” 

“ _ Her,  _ Deputy,” John’s voice was admonishing, correcting her sharply. “Gucci is a ‘her’, for your information.” 

There was a beat of silence, before Rook failed to stifle her giggles. 

“You named your cat... _ Gucci _ ?” She cackled, and wasn’t surprised when his wrath came back full force, fully defending his name choice. 

Retrospectively, it was the most amicable conversation she could remember having with him, even if it was filled with threats to maim her if she continued her incessant giggling. He finally hissed out a list of instructions before announcing that he had work to do, despite how much he would simply love to chat with her all day. 

“Take care of her, Deputy,” John warned her before he signed off, voice silk and honey in one. “Just remember that your treatment of her...or lack thereof, will be repaid unto dear Deputy Hudson tenfold.” 

Rook didn’t get the chance to get a word in before he turned off his radio, and she scowled. She glanced up at the cat, Gucci, who was watching Hurk as he tapped his fingers back and forth across the cupboard, her tail flicking in excitement. 

“Does he  _ actually  _ think I would hurt a fucking cat?” She shook her head and beside her Sharky shrugged. 

“I don’t know, man, I mean I would say that we’re the friendliest bunch o’ folks around, but like...the Peggies don’t really care, do they?” Sharky replied, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “They’re pretty messed up dudes. So like, John would be the messiest-uppiest of them, right? Who knows what’s goin’ on in his head, man.”

She shrugged, conceding that point at least. 

The three of them spent the next few hours keeping the doors shut as John had instructed and safely ensuring the area was effectively cat-friendly again. They had to break the news to the other members of the Resistance that they had a new house-guest, but despite some strange looks, nobody really protested, to her relief. Hurk, at least, was having fun; coaxing the cat out of its bowl with a treat and then spending at least an hour and a half playing with it on the rug in front of the fireplace. Sharky was sitting at the table, a safe distance away and watching the playful interaction with something like wonder on his face, and she doubted it would be long before he was joining his cousin with it. 

Rook was sprawled on the couch, sipping a cup of hot cocoa and watching the sun slowly die; enjoying the moment of peace as she was rarely allowed to do. There were enough rooms in the ranch for her and her two companions to stay while still ensuring everyone else would be comfortable. Some members were even refusing to stay inside the ranch; those who had had family members taken here and whose remains were never found, or those who  _ had  _ visited here themselves in the past and didn’t have pleasant memories. Regardless, the rare moment of peace was long overdue and she could easily see herself just slipping off into a nap on the couch right there and then. 

Suddenly, a loud  _ meow  _ broke through her moment. She opened her eyes to see that the cat had moved to her feet, and was just staring up at her. Rook shifted, a bit uncomfortable now with the intense look it was giving her, and glanced up at Hurk for help. Her friend, however, was dozing off, curled up by the fire. She scowled, and desperately sought out Sharky, who only shrugged; at as much of a loss as she was.

“Hey there, little one,” she cooed down to it, leaning over and reaching out as though to pat it. It  _ did _ arch into her touch gratefully, but the moment she let go it went right back to staring at her. “How can I help you?” 

“Wait! Maybe it needs to pee!” Sharky suggested, and then frowned. “Wait, no...That’s just me... I’ll be back.” He wandered off, and Rook shook her head, glad for his never-ending wisdom. 

The cat meowed again, louder this time and more insistent. She shook her head  threw her arms up. 

“What? John didn’t mention anything in his schedule for this time,” Rook told it sternly, and glanced over at the clock to double check and yes, it was only around 6pm. Another meow, the cat still staring intently at her. “Argh! What? I don’t understand what you  _ need!”  _

This continued for another five or so minutes, the cat’s sounds only growing louder and more shrill until at last Rook caved and stomped over to the table to grab her radio. 

“John Seed, what the fuck does this mean?!” She hissed into the radio, before putting the radio right up to the cat and letting him hear one of the piercing meows. 

There was silence for a moment, and she briefly entertained the thought that he wasn’t going to reply. Finally, however, he did.

“I believe she’s hungry, Deputy,” John answered in his characteristic drawl. “She’s ready for her dinner.”   
“What?” Rook asked incredulously, glancing once more to the clock. “But... _ You  _ said seven!” 

There was a telltale beat of silence before he answered, and a furious blush rose in her cheeks. 

“Did I?” John purred, before chuckling. “Oh, dear. What a terrible mistake, I do apologise.” 

She hissed, and began to make her way to the kitchen, checking behind her to make sure the cat was following.

“Fuck, you’re such a brat,” she scowled, and made a beeline for the containers of cat food she had found in the morning. As she knelt down, the fluffball brushed up against her legs fondly, curling underneath her arms and making it difficult to move properly with pushing the animal away. “John, your creature is getting in the way. Tell it to move.” 

“Oh? She must like you, then,” John replied, and there was a strangely indistinguishable tone to his voice. “Do try to avoid infecting her with your sinful ways.” 

She scoffed, and finally managed to pull out the container and avoid hitting the cat; playing twister as she stepped back up and picked up the bowl. John had a ridiculously elaborate food and water holder; it was ornate and appeared to have actual bronze inlay; patterns curling around a ridiculously cursive ‘G’. 

“Spared no expense, did you, John?” She drawled sarcastically, raising an eyebrow as she poured some of the cat food into the bowl. 

“Only the best for my princess,” he said, surprisingly fond. “Why? Are you jealous, Deputy?” His voice dropped to a whisper, almost a purr. “Did you want me to spoil you too, my dear?”

Her cheeks flushed immediately to his suggestive tone, but scoffed and put the bowl down in the holder, brushing the cat’s fluff as it beelined to the food. 

“Cut it out, John. I’m doing you a favour,” she growled, sitting up on the black marble benches and watching as the cat munched away happily. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Oh? Ignoring the fact that you stole my home and forced this situation in the first place, that is?” He chuckled, and she vaguely imagined that he could only be bored, that he was resorting to messing with her like this. “But since you insist that you’re being nice, I’ll have to reward you, won’t I?” 

She rolled her eyes at his suggestiveness again, and picked up a glass bowl of cookies from the nearby bench. She made sure that he would be able to hear the sound of her biting into one, and the soft sound that she gave as she tasted the delicious, sugary biscuit. He was strangely silent while she swallowed audibly, and she couldn’t help but be thrilled at the thought that she had rendered him speechless. 

“These cookies are a good enough reward for me,” she grinned, and took another bite. “God, these are great, where did you  _ get  _ these?” 

“From the jar next to the sink?” He asked, a suspiciously smug sounding tone to his voice. “Faith made them.” 

Rook froze, the cookie inches from her mouth.

“Wait,” she muttered, stomach sinking, “does that mean…”

“That they’re sprinkled with Bliss?” John finished for her lightly. “Absolutely. Faith assured me of it, in fact.” She tossed the biscuit into the sink with a horrified gasp, already feeling sick, while John chuckled over the radio. “Don’t worry, Deputy; they were only meant to relieve stress, apparently. I didn’t get the chance to touch them, but I doubt they’ll do little more than make you a little bit drowsy.” 

“And woozy,” she growled, gripping onto the bench as her began to fill with the tell-tale fog of the Bliss. She groaned, shutting her eyes to avoid seeing the world begin to sparkle as it tended to do when she was under the influence of this bloody drug. 

John was surprisingly quiet, not even bothering to taunt her while she slowly felt herself slip into the haze of the Bliss. Rook was almost zoning out, there on the bench, when he finally spoke up once more.

“It should wear off soon, Deputy,” he told her graciously, and she jolted at the sudden sound of his voice breaking through the fog. Her hand fumbled around to pick up her radio, but then she realised she was holding it the whole time. 

“I  _ hate  _ this,” she complained, almost whining, much to her later horror. 

“I know, my dear, I know,” John replied, soft and smoothly. She made a few more noises of discomfort as she leaned back on the bench, until he had an idea. “I’ll tell you what, Deputy. As a reward for being so very  _ good _ ...taking care of my cat, you may sleep in my bed, if you wish.” 

Something inside her head was trying to tell her that it was a trick, that it was a bad idea, but in her addled state, it sounded positively divine. Rook had seen John’s bed earlier; a large, sinking mattress covered in a fur blanket that she felt would keep her warm through any winter, and lord, but if that comfort wasn’t something she was craving. 

“M’kay,” she mumbled, slowly slipping her feet back onto the ground and just preparing herself for having to walk up the stairs. There was a brush of something against her leg, and she looked down to see the walking ball of fluff fondly rubbing against her shin. Rook reached out to give her a nice scritch behind the ears, which set off a low, rumbling sound of contentment. 

John, unable to hear this, had continued on.

“You must also be uncomfortable in those old clothes of yours,” he was saying, and that should have sent off warning flags because  _ how did he know what she was wearing,  _ but again, the fog kept her mind calmer than it should have been, so she only made a ‘hmm’ sound in return. “Good, good. Now, my dear, I’ll have no blood-stained clothing under my sheets, if you please. There are a number of my shirts you can choose from in my wardrobe. Will you do that for me?” 

He was right, she reasoned, glancing at her heavy, dirtied jacket and jeans. It  _ was  _ very uncomfortable, now that he mentioned it. She groaned, suddenly not liking the feeling at all. 

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” she replied, pushing herself off the bench and taking a few steps before stopping. “Wait, can Gucci come?” 

“Later, my dear,” John said firmly, while she went back out into the main room. “She likes to play after dinner.” Sure enough, the fluffball made a beeline for the toys sitting motionless beside the still-sleeping Hurk. Rook vaguely registered Sharky, who was sprawled on the couch she had vacated and was also snoring away. 

Bliss making her movements a bit sluggish, she slowly stumbled up the stairs until she found John’s door. She pushed open the door and made her way inside, barely waiting for the door to click shut before she was pulling at her jeans; tugging them down until they were bunched at her ankles and she could step out of them. Her fingers were already working at the buttons on her checkered shirt as she made her way towards the wardrobe John had mentioned. 

It was a walk-in wardrobe, because of  _ course  _ it was, and she stood at the mouth of it, peering at the racks of clothing on either side of her. It was so...John. She spied silk, she spied leather, she spied what she thought was pure cashmere. 

“What do I wear?” She asked softly into the radio, glancing left and right and trying to find something that looked semi-casual. Everything she saw seemed like sleeping on it would make it wrinkle. 

“There should be a drawer by door to the ensuite,” John told her, and she frowned, searching around until she realised that there was a hidden ensuite; fashionably masked as a panel of wood in between the wardrobe racks. She quickly found the drawer he mentioned and tugged it open, revealing a pile of neatly folded pyjama shirts. 

“I found it,” Rook reported, pulling out the top shirt. It was covered in small planes, almost like the jacket she remembered he wore most of the time. “You really do have a thing for planes, don’t you?” 

He cleared his throat, and she imagined that there was a blush scattered across his cheeks. She chuckled while she tugged the shirt on over her head, humming slightly as she went. Once it was in place; a massive thing that reached her mid-thigh (see: 4’9 is very small), she reached for the pants and then frowned. The pants weren’t in the same drawer; it seemed John had his own unique organising system.

“Where do you put the pants, John?” She asked, feeling a bit vulnerable standing only in the shirt and her underwear despite knowing that she was alone in the room. 

“Pants?” He repeated, a sly edge to his voice. “Deputy, I imagine my shirt is quite large on you, large enough to suffice, wouldn’t you agree?”   
She glanced down and bit her lip. It... _ was  _ rather large on her; the hem brushing her thigh, and she knew that a pair of pants would practically swallow her. She wouldn’t even be able to walk in them too, because the legs would be too long for her! 

“It doesn’t matter anyway, does it, Deputy?” John continued, saccharine voice soft only for her. “You’ll be underneath the blankets the whole time, won’t you?”

She shrugged and conceded that he was right; she didn’t need pants. Rook squirmed a bit in the shirt, trying to make it more comfortable as she plodded back out towards the bed; the fur blankets and satin sheets calling her. 

“So, I can just…” she dropped her voice a bit, whispering into the radio as though she were saying something scandalous, “sleep in your bed?” 

He chuckled, the sound light and almost chime-like despite the static. 

“I am a man of my word, my dear,” he replied. “I gave you my permission and I meant it.” His voice lowered, and something hungry could be heard from him. “Go on, now. Get into bed, Deputy.” 

Her limbs were heavy even as he spoke, and she reached out, softly brushing against the soft fur. She made a quiet sound in her throat; her body instantly craving the touch of something so luxurious, something that she had been denied for so long. God, but luxury seemed a world away most of the time, and for weeks she had been sleeping whenever she had the chance, whether it was in the back of some car or in some bunk in a liberated outpost. Having something so soft underneath her was...heavenly. 

All resistance drained out of her as she crawled onto the bed and just laid down, relishing the feeling of the fur around her. She groaned, wriggling slightly and stroking her leg back and forth against the sheets. 

“Comfortable, I take it?” John asked, amusement lacing his words. “When was the last time you slept in a bed, Deputy?” 

She made a humming sound, trying to wrack her brain for the memory. It took her an embarrassing amount of time.

“A few weeks,” she answered honestly, grimacing as the fog in her mind began to lift, before she burrowed her head into the pillow and gave another soft moan. “It feels so nice, John.” 

There was a sharp breath on the other end of the radio and then another beat of silence before he continued. 

“I’m glad, my dear,” he practically purred, that hunger back in his voice. “Does it feel good to be on my bed, in  _ my clothes _ , when you’ve been starved for so long?” 

She nodded her head, before catching herself and realising he couldn’t see her.  

“Yes,” Rook answered, and she grinned when she heard him groan in response to his favourite word. “Something wrong, John?” She couldn’t help but giggle, the Bliss fading enough to give her some clarity - and yes, while she was pissed at how he had been manipulating her, she couldn’t help but find it laughable how predictable and easy to rile up he was. 

“You  _ minx,”  _ he hissed through the radio, and she heard a shuffle that indicated he was moving. “This was a reward, you know; a treat for your good behaviour.” His voice lowered as he spoke again. “But you  _ haven’t  _ been good, have you? No, my dear...quite the opposite.” 

Her head threw up an alarm bell, something deep inside her telling her to shut off the radio right now and run far away. But there was something else, a morbid curiosity whispering ‘what if?’ and the stirrings of a heated ache along her skin. 

“Yeah?” She muttered, and dragged her leg slowly up across the fur blanket, her head tilting back to savour the feeling. “What are you going to do about it? Not like you’re here, huh?”

“Maybe not,” he replied softly, “but you’re still going to do what I want, aren’t you, Deputy?” 

She actually thought she heard a genuine question there, a chance for her to back out and her mind was clear enough of the Bliss that she had enough clarity to see what a horrible decision it would be to go through with this. To do what he wanted and submit to whatever depraved ideas he had. 

But fuck, if the thought didn’t make her clench her thighs together. This was a terrible idea, she knew it, and she knew he would use it against her; probably carve Lust into her one of these days when she ran afoul of him again, but she was dreadfully curious. Plus, she knew he was attractive - she’d have had to be blind to have not seen that - so this definitely wasn’t the first time her thoughts of him drifted into something less than pure. 

“Yes,” Rook replied, and relished the sharp inhaling sound she heard from him. “I’ll be good.” Part of her wondered whether she should string him along; make him believe he had her where he wanted and then pull the rug from underneath him, but there was an ache building inside her - fuelled by the knowledge that she was in his clothes, in his  _ bed -  _ that told her that she wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. 

_ “Good girl _ ,” he purred in response, voice impossibly eager. She heard him shift and again she wondered where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. Perhaps he was stowed away in his bunker, hands still covered in the blood of some poor victim. Or perhaps he was staying at one of the other outposts, claiming whatever bed was available now that he was technically homeless. Either way, she was sure he was surrounded by people who definitely  _ wouldn’t _ approve of what he was doing, and god but that turned her on. 

“Not to be a brat,” she began, and slid her finger along the sleeve of the shirt she had thrown on, “but I don’t want to get out of your shirt.” 

“You won’t be, my dear Deputy,” he replied immediately, barely even sparing a thought. “No matter how...soaked through it gets, you will stay in that shirt until tomorrow morning, do you understand me?”

She bit her lip, picturing the various ways it was likely to “get soaked” and she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together to try and relieve the ache between them. 

“I can do that,” Rook agreed, wriggling against the blanket. She quickly manoeuvred herself out of her old sports-bra and tossed it onto the ground beside the bed, knowing it wasn’t likely going to be necessary. A thought popped into her head, and she grinned while she traced her hand up towards her chest, tracing around the swell of her breast. She arched slightly, mouth opening in a silent gasp as she brushed across her nipple, hidden as it was underneath his shirt.

“Good,” he said, unaware of her actions. “It’s nice to know you can do what you’re told  _ sometimes _ , Deputy.” 

Her head tilted back, leaning against the pillow as she teased herself through his shirt to the sound of his voice; the smooth cadence making her skin want to sing for him. Her fingers brushed against her nipple again, and this time she pinched it, making her gasp audibly and arch upwards into her own touch.

“Oh?” His voice was surprised, but pleased. “And just what are you doing, my dear? In my bed? In my shirt?”

She couldn’t help but scoff, even while she rested the radio beside her head and her other hand began to trail downwards. 

“Take a fucking guess,” she drawled, eyes rolling before she made a soft sound of pleasure as he fingers made their way between her thighs. Her legs spread wide as she tucked the hem of the shirt up around her lower stomach so she could have easier access, and her fingers traced around her inner thigh, teasing and never going higher as she wanted it. 

John made a tutting sound, and then there was a creak, as though he had leaned back in a chair. 

“You are simply  _ filthy,  _ aren’t you?” He said, but he wasn’t scolding at all. “You can’t keep your hands off yourself, can you? That’s okay, I’ll allow it.” He chuckled, and she shivered at the sound. “I can’t say I  _ don’t  _ like the thought of my sheets smelling like you, like your  _ lust _ . Are you going to fuck yourself in my bed, Deputy?” She moaned at his crude words, fingers teasingly pressing against her nub through her underwear. “Good. My bed will smell like you for weeks.” 

She huffed out a laugh, even while her walls clenched around nothing; his words stroking something deep inside her. In his clothing, tucked within his bed, she felt concerningly safe; as though this was the best place for her to be - a snide voice suggested it was where she was  _ supposed  _ to be, but that might have been a remnant from the Bliss. 

“You’ll like that, won’t you?” Rook replied, voice breathy as she finally dragged tugged her underwear off and tossed it to the side. Her legs twitched as they spread, eagerness making her hand shaky as she dragged it against the bared skin. “My friend always said you had a hard-on for me.”

“Come to me, my dear and you can see for yourself,” he said, voice low and she heard more movement through the radio and assumed he was likely mirroring her own actions. 

“Tempting.” She laughed softly but the sound broke off in a breathy gasp as her fingers delved between her folds. She teasingly drew them upwards but made sure to avoid the areas she wanted them to touch the most as she continued. “But I think I’d rather come  _ for  _ you.”

He breathed in sharply, and her legs jerked a bit wider at the sound. 

“Oh? Then come for me, Deputy,” he growled, and she could hear as he tugged the radio closer to him. “Indulge in your sin.”

“Working on it,” she hissed back. “Keep talking.”

He huffed out a laugh and her finger finally brushed against her nub, making her hiss in a gasp. She reached down to gather some of her wetness and slowly dragged her finger back up, circling and teasing. 

“I didn’t realise I had such an... _ effect _ on you, Deputy.” By the sound of his voice, however, he was not complaining. “You should have told me sooner, now I have so many more ideas as to just how I’ll make you confess.” She sped up her movements, hips arching upwards the muscles inside her clenched. “And oh, but you have  _ sins  _ to confess, don’t you, my dear?”

Rook slid one of her fingers inside her, the sleeve of John’s shirt brushing against her lower stomach; making another rush of warmth flood through as she considered how utterly depraved this was. He was her enemy, the last thing she should be doing was fucking herself to his voice. 

“Add a few more sins to the list,” she chuckled, and groaned as she drew her finger slowly back out, circling slightly to brush against her more sensitive walls. “God, I needed this.”

He gave a short laugh. 

“Then let it be official; I offer my bed for your sinful indulgences,” John drawled, voice becoming breathier as he was clearly affected by her sounds. “It’s where you belong, Deputy. It’s where I’ll  _ keep  _ you...after you’ve atoned, of course.” 

She groaned, picturing the thought of staying underneath these sheets, anticipating his return after a long day and spreading her legs for him when he finally came to her. 

“I’ll pass on the atonement, thanks,” Rook still had to say. She bit her lip before she slid another finger inside herself, gasping slightly at the stretch, and with her other hand she resumed her touches on her nub. “Oh, god.” Her hips arched upwards, trying to get closer to the sudden increased pleasure or perhaps get away from it. 

“You don’t want to atone? But think of your reward, my dear,” John continued, voice washing over her through the static. She whimpered, fingers moving faster, trying to overwhelm herself into her release. “You’ll be safe; hidden away for my eyes only, and instead of your fingers…” His voice lowered, all while she rocked her hips up, trying desperately to reach the edge from her own touch, “you’ll have  _ me  _ inside you.”

The image, the fantasy of him there was enough.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ...Daddy, please!” She gasped as she came undone; her hips jerked upwards and her mouth falling open in a silent moan as her walls clenched around her fingers; still moving inside her to try and prolong her long-overdue moment of release. Finally, she came to a halt, hand stilling and her head falling back against the pillow as she breathed heavily. 

“All done, my dear?” His voice was proud, and she waited for a moment for the mortification to slip through her post-orgasm haze. 

It didn’t. 

“Yeah,” she replied eventually, whimpering slightly as she removed her fingers from herself, twitching as they brushed against her sensitive nerves. Leaning back into the bed, she kicked the blankets down and then tugged them up over her; resting against the pillow that was too comfortable for its own good. 

“Well, this has been...  _ enlightening _ ,” John drawled, smug and satisfied on the other side. “And it has made me rather eager for our next meeting. So many sins, my dear; so many...filthy perversions.”

Rook sighed and opened her mouth to respond, but he beat her to it.

“I’ll be sure to entertain them  _ all  _ when I get my hands on you,” he continued, chuckling. “Sleep now, darling. I’ll come for you when you’re good and ready. And do remember to feed Gucci; I’d prefer if  _ both  _ of my girls were taken care of.” 

She scoffed but after her little display, she doubted he’d take any of her protests seriously.

“Enjoy your stay, Deputy,” John said in farewell before the radio clicked back into silence.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *sighs into the abyss*  
> This is kind of the happiest thing I've written


End file.
